


The Violinist

by audiopsychic (orphan_account)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Bard Kravitz (The Adventure Zone), Canonical Character Death, Gen, Jealousy, Kravitz's backstory, Orchestra, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Save Me, Violinist Kravitz (The Adventure Zone), i have very little knowledge of how an orchestra works, i made myself and many others cry writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 19:21:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10542918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/audiopsychic
Summary: He clutches the case to his chest, like it holds all his worldly possessions, and it does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> a short story for my boy kravitz  
> (im not sorry)

The first time you see him, he is carrying a case. His clothes are thick and comfortable, but old and well-worn. He clutches the case to his chest, like it holds all his worldly possessions, and it does. He hurries along, head bowed as he moves away.

He is frail, you notice, but not small. His eyes have dark circles underneath, he is hungry. You watch as he searches for a job, despair growing each time you see him. You can not interfere.

The man looks truly cheerful now, happier than you have ever seen him. He is radiating happiness, joy on his face and in his movement. He carries the case, but it does not burden him. You follow him this time, and he leads you to a concert hall. He has found a job, you realize. He sits in the second row to the front, and he finally opens the case. Inside is a Violin, polished carefully, more expensive than you think he can afford. He lifts it to his chin and begins to play.

You follow him a few times after that, watching as he moves up to the first row, and his eyes hold more light then you have ever seen in them. He’s filled out more, able to afford regular meals now. Still he practices. When he walks, you see him tap out melodies, ones you do not recognize. He scribbles in a journal, notes, key signatures, time signatures, nothing you have ever heard. He hums sometimes, and what he hums is beautiful.

The man is second chair violin now, and he practices harder than ever. He hones his skills, still not first chair. He plays until his fingers cramp and there are lines from the strings visible on his fingers. But what he plays is stunning. He hones his music, and when he plays, people listen. You listen. He makes first chair.

Someone is angry at him. They are jealous of the man, the one you have watched. They confront him, shouting loudly that he has stolen their glory. The man holds his violin, his life close to his chest. They advance on him, shoving him back. He has curled in on himself when they wrench his violin from his hands. The violin is smashed, crushed against the man’s head. The man sobs, not over himself, but his violin, his dreams of music. His eyes shut as he slides down the wall. You know better than anyone that death is inevitable and inescapable, and that it is his time.

The man now kneels before you, and you tell him to stand. You offer him a job. If he takes it, he will work for you, collecting the souls of those who dare try and escape you. He nods his head, and you stride towards him, and place a hand on his forehead. His mortal form floats away as his face becomes bone and feathers unfurl around his shoulders. There is no going back now. He looks at you and you know that his dreams died when he did.

**Author's Note:**

> i cried writing this and i hope you cried reading this
> 
> yell at me on tumblr: audiopsychic
> 
> my discord: gayntaire#4039


End file.
